


your love for me was a clear single happiness and I would not give it up to save my soul

by leiascully



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: dogdaysofsummer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-31
Updated: 2006-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-03 06:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius was and I loved him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your love for me was a clear single happiness and I would not give it up to save my soul

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Marauders - HBP  
> A/N: Title is from _The Powerbook_ by Jeanette Winterson.  
> Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ and all related characters are the property of JK Rowling and Scholastic. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

There were days with Sirius like sunlight, and days where Remus honestly wanted to die, choking on love and on the stale scent of cigarettes that permeated his clothing.

He and Sirius fell asleep in a field once, visiting his parents in the days before they were killed, in the country where he had grown up. The grass was long and sweet and warm and the day was perfect and they dozed off. When Remus woke in the early evening, Sirius was still sprawled on his stomach, head on his forearms, and the hair brushed off the vulnerable nape of his neck by the breeze so that the lowering sun gleamed on the little hairs he had never noticed.

These days were like gifts. There were still ten thousand bright things to discover, fine hairs on an overlooked inch of skin, a forgotten favourite jam, a song whistled tunelessly only comprehensible to the other. Remus tried to write about it but found no words to contain his joy or express the significance of the mole inside Sirius' left upper arm, where the skin was softer than anything Remus knew and the mole was his only, no one else had ever seen it. In the larger scheme of things, what was a mole? But it belonged to them, the finding of it, a thing that no one had bothered to notice before.

Sirius was complicated, contradictory, moody as a girl sometimes, always breaking his heart over something with the way he threw himself into passions. And Remus loved him for it. Why not? When you were the passion, nothing else mattered. Sirius was sun and moon and stars but he wasn't easy. Remus was silenced by the immensity of them the way he was silenced by the night sky: just the reach of what it meant.

And so there were no poems, and there were no letters, and when the misunderstandings came, Remus surrendered and said nothing. Sirius shouted, all love, all fury, magnificent in his sneering anger, the best and the worst thing that had ever happened to Remus. He wanted so much, Sirius did, all of Remus and more. And he gave so much, Sirius did, and Remus would have thought he was used up entirely, but Sirius was a mystery that way, bountiful in love and wrath.

_Spy_, he hissed, and it could have ended there, on that eerily calm and beautiful night, Sirius the only stormcloud. The years without him were like a drought and Remus forgot the rain, the intoxication of it and the joy, living in an unrelieved state of lovelessness.

But Sirius came back, after Azkaban, after everything. He was gaunt and sorrowful. He wanted everything. He was afraid. They used each other up and pushed each other away and nothing was decided by the time the veil took him, a strange destiny, a fallen star. He had been named for the Dogstar, a thing that guided and shone, but in the end, Remus thought, he was the Morningstar, the promised one, the prodigal.

In his grey years, he would sit in the sun in summer fields and try to write, to make anyone understand, but all that came was this: _Sirius was and I loved him._


End file.
